His Shirt
by PenTheHeart
Summary: In fact his favourite look was when she wore his shirt. Because in his shirt, she was Jade. The one only he knew. Short and Sweet story, pure fluff. Drabble-like, a snapshot in life.


**Short and Sweet- very sweet- oneshot to lift everyone's spirits. My first fan-fic so I would absolutely love to hear what you thought.**

**I don't own Victorious because honestly if I did, we'd see a lot more scenes like this.**

**Thank you so much for reading, virtual hugs!**

Form fitting dresses and short skirts definitely did make her look absolutely amazing and as much as he adored the sight of her in either outfit, he had a favourite and it was neither of them. Of course he loved her in the leggings and jeans, he fell head over heels when she wore shorts or her bathing costume and the sight of her in just a towel did crazy things to him. But his favourite wasn't any of them at all, his favourite look for her wasn't her with nothing on even though there was no denying he didn't love it. In fact his favourite look was when she wore his shirt.

It didn't matter which one and it didn't really matter with what she wore it with, he loved seeing her in his shirt. His favourite look however was undoubtedly her in his shirt with nothing else because it was his sight and his only. No-one else saw her like that, intimate, vulnerable. No-one else saw the Jade beneath the hard outer shell, the Jade beneath the dark clothes, the dark make-up and the coloured streaks. It wasn't that she barely wore anything, or that she only wore it after they'd had sex, the reason wasn't sexual at all. It was because in his shirt was Jade, the one he knew. It was because she loved his shirt, it was because her hair tumbles down in her natural waves against the coloured plaid, it was because in his shirt she was herself.

"I love you," he whispered, watching her from his place buried in the covers as she came back from the kitchenette, clutching the glass of water with both hands.

She smiled and blushed like she always did; bowing her head so all he could see was the curtain of dark waves.

"I love you too," she smiled brightly, setting the glass down on the shelf beside her and walking over to the bed.

He sat up in the bed, the blankets falling so that his chest and abdomen were uncovered and she sat herself straddling his legs, sitting back on her knees so they were at the same level.

Her look, so innocent, so pressure-free, so beautiful.

That was why he loved her in his shirt.

"Why are you smiling?" she questioned bluntly and he just laughed.

"Babe, you're smiling too," he laughed, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek.

"No I'm not," she said, still smiling as if it was some incurable disease.

He just smiled in return and used the hand to brush away a loose wave from her face to reveal her large bright eyes, doe-like in expression.

"You're still smiling," he teased, prodding the upturned corners of her mouth.

"You're a child," she chuckled, her smile growing with every word.

"Really?" he grinned, resorting back to his original position with his hand covering her now apple-like cheeks.

All he could think was that she was the cutest thing in the whole world.

"Yes," she answered adamantly, pressing her lips to his thumb as it brushed over them.

"So are you," he added, watching her pretend frown with a hint of amusement.

If her hands weren't on his waist and holding his spare hand he knew they would be crossed over her chest like a toddler who was unhappy about something.

"I'm nothing of the sort," she pouted, the corners of her mouth still upturned and light dimples showing on her snowy skin.

He laughed and brought his hand down from her pink-tinged cheek, trailing down the plaid covered arm and onto her bare thigh. He tucked his hand beneath it and tugged her over closer to him and she immediately knew what to do, cupping his face in her slender fingers which were frozen as always and pressing her dusk lips to his.

He kissed back, their kiss slow, lazy, a civil, silent conversation. There was no biting which was one of her traits that he'd grown to love; there was no demanding, no forced entry into each other's mouths just sweet, slow movements as he brought his free hand to her face once again.

Then as slow as the kiss was she brought her right hand through his untidy hair and he began to slowly lick along her bottom lip. She let him in like she'd done to her heart, to her soul, to her mind and began to slowly dance her tongue with his still as slow as they could possibly be without stopping.

She leaned in closer, the plaid shirt drooping from her form and he put both of his hands on her waist, her skin prickling with the warmth even through the thick shirt. Almost a second after he did so he pulled back and looked into her widened eyes, the beautiful greying blue almost clouded over by her dark pupils.

"We've got school tomorrow, we should sleep," he whispered, his throat not capable of anymore than the silent words.

She nodded and rolled over onto her side of the small bed, it was always going to be her side now, ever since she'd slept there on the first night he'd never found himself there, always saving it for her.

He shrunk back down into the warmth of the blankets and she lay her head on his chest, tangling her leg within his, he wrapped a blanket around her before pulling her closer and resting his arm around her back.

"I love you," she whispered as he turned off the lamp that sat on the table behind his head.

"I love you too," he replied, squeezing her tight as a sort of half hug.

Her head crept up and placed a butterfly kiss onto his closed lips before resting her head back onto his chest, her dark hair splayed out upon his tanned skin. In return he dropped a kiss onto the top of her head before laying his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

His remaining senses smelling the air of their scent, hearing her soft breathing, tasting her on his lips and tongue and his fingers touching the soft skin that lay beneath the shirt.

Form fitting dresses and short skirts definitely did make her look absolutely amazing and as much as he adored the sight of her in either outfit, he had a favourite and it was neither of them. Of course he loved her in the leggings and jeans, he fell head over heels when she wore shorts or her bathing costume and the sight of her in just a towel did crazy things to him. But his favourite wasn't any of them at all, his favourite look for her wasn't her with nothing on even though there was no denying he didn't love it. In fact his favourite look was when she wore his shirt.

Because in his shirt, she was Jade.

The one only he knew.


End file.
